Thunderbirds: Don't Go!
by MadBat27
Summary: Arnold has a slow mental breakdown as his oldest childhood friends move on, leaving him alone. A topical look at why Arnold Wesker may have been driven from harmless ventriloquist to schizophrenic mob boss. (For those who don't know, Thunderbirds was originally made with puppets, but ITV are now remaking the series with CGI.)


p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px !important; padding: 0px !important;"I... I can't believe it. How could they do this? Why? The Thunderbirds are puppets; it's an integral part of who they are, what they are. The entire charm of the show was in the puppetry. Now you've taken that away. Why? Wasn't it enough when their memory was spoiled by the live action representation in 2005? Wasn't that bad enough? They don't even look familiar anymore./p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px !important; padding: 0px !important;" p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px !important; padding: 0px !important;"You have to understand, I grew up with these characters. I felt I knew them, better perhaps than I knew myself. When I needed friends, they were there, inviting me along on all their adventures. They made have been wooden, but sometimes it seemed as if they were more human than me. Oh, I know, they may not have seemed all that different to you, but they were real to me. They represented everything I was not. Interesting things happened in their lives, opportunities to show strength and courage and wisdom and compassion. Nothing interesting ever happened to me, and I was none of those things.p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px !important; padding: 0px !important;" p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px !important; padding: 0px !important;"Everybody liked the Thunderbirds. It didn't matter that the dialogue was bad, or the stories were poor. They were heroes. My idols. I had them on my lunch box, when other children had Power Rangers. I dressed as one for Halloween one year (Brains, of course), but I was much too shy to go trick or treating. I just sat at home watching re-runs. I suppose, you could say they were the most important figures in my life. You have no idea what I would have done to be a Thunderbird, the lengths I would have gone to. Even if it meant being wooden. Even if I had to let someone else pull my strings. p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px !important; padding: 0px !important;" p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px !important; padding: 0px !important;"But I could never be so brave. Never. I wanted to be, but... I couldn't. Instead, I learned to be a puppeteer. My dream was to hold the strings of one of the Tracy brothers. It... it really is an underestimated profession, you know. It's harder than it looks. Making a wooden man bob-bob along, up and down on his strings, as if he could walk. It was a joyful experience. Finally, I had some sense of control. A control that was lacking from my own life. More than that, I had friends. p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px !important; padding: 0px !important;" p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px !important; padding: 0px !important;"Nobody liked me before. I was quiet, dumpy, wearing glasses and a knitted vest. No matter how I tried - and I did, I tried ever so hard - I could never relate to other children my age. Mother said it was because I was too mature, too intelligent, and they were jealous; my brother said it was because I'm a freak. Whatever it was, it made school life... unpleasant. Other children made fun of me. p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px !important; padding: 0px !important;" p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px !important; padding: 0px !important;"But not my puppets; they were always there for me. Just like the Thunderbirds.p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px !important; padding: 0px !important;" p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px !important; padding: 0px !important;"The bullies at school made fun of my puppets, too. But they didn't cry. Not like me. They were strong and brave like the Thunderbirds. Once school was over, I found myself a job entertaining children with my marionettes, and for a while I was happy. At least, most of the time. There were children, even there, who mocked me and my little friends. But I could be strong if they could. I could be like a Thunderbird.p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px !important; padding: 0px !important;" p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px !important; padding: 0px !important;"But now... now you're taking them away from me. It won't be the same if they aren't on strings. I'll be left behind, obsolete, even to my childhood heroes. And they'll be nothing more than... than computer generated nobodies. Please, don't do this. Don't destroy their heritage... my heritage. I'm sorry, but you can't. Today's children will love puppets, I'm sure of it! Just, please, Thunderbirds...p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px !important; padding: 0px !important;" p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px !important; padding: 0px !important;"... don't go...p 


End file.
